


Afterwards

by SpaceCat



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCat/pseuds/SpaceCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after the lights fade and the screen goes dark. (Only through season 7, I haven't wrapped my head around 8 yet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. S0/S1

Pilot

Robbie sat on the couch and looked at the plant that Laura Hobson had just brought over. Some kind of succulent she'd said. "Won't need much water." Well that was good because he'd never had any luck keeping plants alive. He was surprised that he'd managed to keep himself alive over the last few years, come to think of it.

He'd lied to her about the insomnia. "It's getting better." It had been with him ever since he'd stopped drinking himself into oblivion every night, not that he was going to tell her that. It had gotten worse again since he'd returned to Oxford, even braced as he'd been against the sight of the familiar spires, bridges and street corners… but he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't go back to that kind of drinking here, no matter the memories that assaulted him. So far he'd been coping.

One week down, the rest of his life to go.

 

Whom the Gods Would Destroy

Damn that Hathaway. Oh, he was right that Anne was certainly behind the whole conspiracy, but it wasn't the same as what Platt had done. Revenge was at least an understandable motive, not some out of control… what was the word he wanted? Hedonism. Yes that was it, the relentless seeking of pleasure to the point of murder. Revenge he at least had some sympathy with.

Oh, yes indeed he did.

 

Old School Ties

Lewis walked through the deepening twilight until he reached Magdalen Bridge. It had always been a favorite spot of his to watch the river and listen to its murmur. The lights of Oxford made rippling watery reflections and he reminisced about his school days when he was a callow youth who didn't know what love really was, and about Diane. Suddenly he could hear her saying about Laura, "I think she fancies you."

He thought of Laura, and the way she twinkled at him when she smiled.

Then the pain started. It flowed through him as steadily as the Cherwell below his feet and washed Laura away.

 

Expiation

Hathaway spoke to his empty flat as he poured himself more whiskey with an unsteady hand. "Found a good guv'nor, I have." He toasted the walls and tossed the whiskey back, letting it burn down his throat. "Stands up for me. Treats me with _respect_." He refilled his glass again.

But bloody hell, did he really have to do _that?_ His joke when the Headmaster of the Mallory children's school had mistaken them for a gay couple had crossed the line into flirtatious and still Lewis hadn't said anything. He wouldn't have dared behave that way with DI Knox; the man was a bully and probably would have ruined his career out of spite.

There were many DI's like Knox around the nick, bullies or alpha-male types who treated him with thinly disguised contempt or as nothing more than a coffee delivery boy. He'd seen immediately that Lewis was nothing like them; the man was genuinely interested in him and truly listened. Even when Lewis snapped at him, there was no real heat, no meanness in it. He'd even told him about the seminary, and he hadn't told anyone that before. For God's sake Lewis had apologized to _him_ even after he'd been rude about the man's dead wife.

He'd learned over a lifetime of being a misfit – either not good enough because he was poor, or too good because he was too smart – to never trust anyone.

God, he wanted to trust Lewis. God, he wanted…

He reached for the whiskey bottle, now half empty. "I must not be drunk enough." More alcohol would drive the impulse away; it usually did.


	2. S2

And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea

Lewis tossed aside the slim volume of Shelley poetry that James had lent him. "Pretty enough, but too long winded." For some reason it kept bringing Laura to mind, and the way she'd smiled at him when they were discussing Phillip and Dr. Stringer. This inexorably led his memory further back to her party and the feel of her hand stroking his face…

But then his eye fell on Val's picture and guilt drove Laura away again.

 

Music to Die For

"Idiot." He'd crossed the line again. Why did he have to make that crack about Lewis' taste in women? Admittedly when they first started working together he'd teased Lewis to see how much he could get away with (and how juvenile was _that_?) but it had quickly morphed into trying to poke the older man out of his depression and get him to smile occasionally. Still, he'd been trying to cut back on the snark.

Lewis was so easy going and secure in himself that in his rare good moods, like tonight, he'd sometimes joke back without ever taking anything too seriously. It just felt so good to be himself around someone and have them accept him. Lewis had even let James come over to hang out, drink beer and listen to music, like they were best mates or something.

He tried the concept on for size. "Best mates." He'd never had one of those before.

 

Life Born of Fire

James paced restlessly in his flat. What he really wanted was a drink, but the medicos had told him no alcohol until the last of the drugs Zoe had given him had cleared his system. It was one of the conditions of his early discharge from hospital.

Zoe/Feardorcha. S/he? The two were confused now in his mind, but it was Zoe's voice he heard in his head over and over. "There's nothing wrong with you." _Yes there is._ It was the closest he'd come in years to admitting out loud what he was.

Will's self-loathing was something he was certainly well acquainted with. Because once again he'd cocked things up and betrayed everything for a secret. Will had trusted him all those years ago and he'd destroyed his friend. Now Lewis had trusted him and he'd destroyed his friendship. Why did he have to hurt people he cared about?

He thought about leaving the force, but Lewis had saved his sorry excuse of a life and had even wiped away a tear when he'd realized James was all right, so he supposed that he owed it to the man.

Lewis had seemed to forgive him but would probably never trust him again. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered.

~.~

Robbie paced restlessly in his flat. His gut instinct, the one that unfailingly told him when a suspect was lying, told him the truth about Hathaway. It cast a new light on Hathaway's words to McEwan all those years ago.

Even a bloody pillock like him could see that James was applying them to himself as well. Those bastards at St. Mark's had poisoned James with the same shame and self-loathing, even if they hadn't realized it. Add the guilt he must feel about Will's suicide, and it was no wonder James hadn't been able to tell him. And how had he reacted?

"You're miserable rotter, Robbie; the poor lad has enough problems without you adding to them."

It was obvious from his play with the lad's mag that James was going to continue to deny what he was. "I told you it wouldn't matter if it was me own son, why would you think it mattered if it was you?" A lifetime of Catholic shame was probably the answer, damn the bastards.

There was little he could do beyond accepting whatever the lad chose and hope that someday James would accept himself. He wished that there was something more. "I'm sorry, James," he whispered.

 

The Great and the Good

As soon as Hathaway could get Lewis out of Cooper's operational hub, he headed for Dr. Hobson. She seemed to understand Lewis better than anyone and there was no way he was going to take this to Innocent. He explained the letters and the clippings. "He says he can't get it out of his head. He thinks Cooper's left something there for him to find."

"Do you think that?" Hobson asked.

"No," James shook his head firmly. "He was a twisted little man trying to exert power over people so that he didn't have to feel so small." He leaned tiredly against the edge of one of Hobson's examination tables. "And the insomnia's worse. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's not sleeping."

Hobson placed a comforting hand on Hathaway's arm. "Better insomnia than drinking himself unconscious."

"Yes, I've heard about that." He shrugged tiredly. "As far as I've been able to observe, he isn't."

"Then he'll find his way back out, just give him time. Try not to let him spend too much time alone brooding." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Go get some rest, all right?"

Hathaway rubbed his face with both hands wordlessly, then pushed away from the table and left, followed by Hobson's pensive gaze.


	3. S3

Allegory of Love

Jean sat at her dining room table and listened to the silence of the big empty house. It creaked and popped occasionally as it cooled and settled for the night. Heaven only knew where her husband was and hopefully Heaven cared, because she certainly didn't; she was just glad he was gone. The bottle of wine emptied not quickly but steadily as she drank; whatever it took to drive the broken and desperate look on Ginny's face out of her mind. Her dear friend had been falling apart inside for who knows how long and she'd missed it. Some copper. She reached the bottom of the wine bottle and it wasn't enough. With a steady hand, she reached for something stronger.

 

Quality of Mercy

Final sentencing for Simon Monkford didn't take long and it was still fairly early when they left court. Lewis was outwardly calm if a bit quiet on the way back to the nick, and quieter still when they'd completed their case paperwork and James persuaded him to go out for a pint. But the façade was beginning to crumble by the time James dropped Lewis off at his flat, and he seemed to have shrunk inside his suit.

James stepped out of the car with Lewis. "Do you want me to…" he gestured towards the flat, indicating his willingness to stay if Lewis wanted company.

Lewis looked up at James and shook his head. "No thanks. Get some sleep, lad." He turned and walked to the door, his shoulders sagging further, and slipped inside.

James drove down the block and around the corner, then parked the car and got out. He leaned against it casually and lit a cigarette. It had gone dark by the time they'd left the pub and he looked up at the now-visible stars for a while then pushed away from the car and calmly strolled back around the corner and just far enough up the street that he could see the lights in Lewis' front window. There was vine covered arbor over a gate across the street and he stepped into the darkness beneath it; the lit end of his cigarette the only indication of his presence. He watched Lewis' silhouette move to and fro in the window as the older man paced restlessly.

He counted time by cigarettes. On his third, Lewis' lights went out. Presently the door opened and Lewis walked out. He turned away from James' direction and headed up the street with his hands in his pockets, shoulders still heavily bowed.

James waited until Lewis was far enough ahead and followed. After several turns he was sure he knew where Lewis was headed and took a different route, afraid that Lewis would eventually hear his footsteps in the quiet night.

James reached the cemetery chapel just in time to see Lewis drop to his knees in front of Val's grave. Staying in the deep shadows and leaning against the cold stone next to a stained glass window, he watched Lewis begin to speak. James was close enough to recognize the northern cadence of the older man's voice, but not close enough to distinguish individual words.

Lewis talked for a long time, at times soft and low, at others more energetic. James maintained his vigilance in patient stillness despite his fatigue.

Finally Lewis seemed to run out of steam and the flow of words trickled to a halt. After a moment he stood slowly and ran his hand along the top of the gravestone. With a last pat on the cold marble, he turned away and started walking, shoulders straighter under a lesser burden.

James didn't move until Lewis was out of sight, then went back to the car and directly home. He tumbled into bed, clumsy with exhaustion. He only had time for one thought about the righteous to run through his head before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

> "When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet."

 

The Point of Vanishing

Lewis turned away from the figures of James and Fiona outlined in the window and started off down the street. Bloody hypocrite he was, lecturing James when he couldn't put his own ghosts to rest. His mind ran back over the case and he suddenly laughed. "James, you daft sod, how to break up with me indeed."

Then he started thinking about Dr. Hobson and her ideas on a man's weaknesses… _fast cars, single malts, nurses with starched white cotton…_ "Nurses?" he muttered. "Weakness for a certain pathologist in scrubs is more like it." He halted in surprise at the thought. For just a moment it didn't hurt so much to think about her.

Then he shook the thought away and continued walking, ghosts trailing in his wake.

 

Counter Culture Blues

James slouched down on Robbie's couch, his belly full of excellent curry, a cold beer in hand, while Robbie and Laura puttered around in the kitchen behind him. Robbie had bought them all a drink, then they'd decided that the chips they'd had on the way to the pub weren't enough and the three of them had come back here with a take-away.

He'd put on one of Robbie's old records and was listening to Esme Ford – the _real_ Esme Ford – wail with feral intensity. His musician's ear picked the band apart, able to hear each vocal and instrumental line individually and simultaneously. The first thing he noted was that Mack really was an excellent bass player. That little demonstration he'd given while talking about Kitten wasn't a fluke. The rest were all better than he'd expected and he grudgingly admitted that it was pretty good music; they'd been far better in their prime than the arthritic flailing around that he'd heard in Richie Maguire's studio.

He let the music and the voices of Robbie and Laura wash over him with quiet satisfaction. For once his overactive brain had turned itself off and he was able to exist in the moment. And when Robbie and Laura joined him on the couch, a warm ball of contentment enveloped him and he was happy, if only for the moment.


	4. S4

The Dead of Winter

Laura looked out her front window, glad to see stars shining through breaks forming in the clouds that had sprung up at sunset bringing light rain with them. A knock at her door surprised her and she went to open it.

"Robbie!" It was obvious something was seriously wrong, he looked as upset as she'd ever seen him and soaking wet besides, as if he'd walked through the earlier shower. "What on earth is wrong?" She didn't wait for an answer but pulled him inside and removed his jacket in one smooth motion, then settled him on the couch while she poured him some tea.

Once he'd taken a sip and seemed more composed, she said, "Tell me."

In a low voice he told her about the end of the case. About Mortmaigne and what he'd done to the girl and the boy both. How Hopkiss had murdered four people trying to protect his abuser. A man who, in his selfish and twisted desire for some ideal of beauty and innocence, destroyed the lives of the children he touched.

He fell silent, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head bowed. Laura put an arm across his shoulders knowing that he hadn't said the worst yet or he wouldn't still be this upset. "Tell me," she said again softly.

"You remember James said he'd lived on the Crevecoeur estate as a kid?" Robbie shuddered. "He's a well set up lad, you can imagine what he looked like as a tyke. The worst part is that I can't even ask him if Mortmaigne…" he couldn't even say the words.

It dawned on Laura with horror what he was trying to say. "Oh my god, Robbie." She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. After a moment she said, "Still, there's no evidence Mortmaigne ever did anything to him… and you know how much guilt he takes on himself, maybe he knew what was going on and just blames himself for not trying to put a stop to it."

As if she hadn't spoken, Robbie continued, his voice still rough. "If anyone had ever touched Lyn or Mark, I'd have taken them apart with me bare hands." He shook his head. "Would explain why the lad's so confused and untrusting." He set his cup down with a sigh. "I can't even let on what I suspect. I told him he wasn't responsible for any of it, but I don't think he believes me. He was ready to turn in his papers; if he runs away and disappears then what would become of him?"

Laura blinked back tears. "He's lucky to have someone who cares about him."

"Aye, but what can I _do_?" Robbie asked sadly, shaking his head.

"Nothing probably, but be his friend."

 

Dark Matter

_Poor James_ , Laura thought. He really was too sensitive to be a police officer, he took things too much to heart, especially when he couldn't prevent bad things happening. If he'd just stop fixating on things he'd be better off, but he had to pick away at his perceived failures like they were scabs. But somehow Robbie had figured out how to derail James' obsessiveness.

Laura stepped outside the college gate just in time to see Robbie and James walking down the street. From James' posture she could judge that Robbie had already worked his magic.

 

Your Sudden Death Question

After fish and chips along the Cherwell, Robbie walked Laura home. They stood and faced one another at her door. Laura looked up at Robbie, mirroring his faint smile. "It was a lovely evening, Robbie, in spite of everything." She placed a hand on his chest and reached up to brush a light lingering kiss across his cheek. "Good night," she said softly, and then went inside before Robbie could move or answer.

Robbie stood in bemused silence for several minutes then shook his head and started the walk home. His smile lasted the entire way.

 

Falling Darkness

Laura paced the upper landing, phone clutched in shaking hand, every light in the house on, and heart racing like the proverbial fox before the hounds. _Damn._ Since the abduction, she'd been seeing a counselor who'd said that panic attacks like this could happen and to call her any time, but she couldn't very well call at quarter to one in the morning, could she?

The silence and her remaining nerves were shattered when the phone in her hand suddenly shrilled loudly, causing her to jump sharply and drop it onto the carpeted floor. "Double damn." Taking a deep breath to try and calm herself and slow her pounding heart, she picked it up; the screen identified the caller as Lewis. She took another breath and answered. "Robbie?" She tried to keep the quaver out of her voice.

"I'm at your front door, Laura, come let me in," he said quietly.

She didn't want to reveal the true extent of her relief and by the time she made it to the door, she had worked herself up to a good imitation of being mad. Really, did he honestly think that she needed her hand held? She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that said yes, she certainly had needed him tonight. She jerked the door open a little more emphatically than was necessary and let him in. "Are you checking up on me, Lewis?" she demanded. "Or am I to believe that you just happened to be passing by at 12:45 in the morning?"

"I'm checking up on you of course." He had the cheek to smile at her. "I was on rota tonight and got called out to a domestic in the area and thought I'd swing by on my way back." He closed the front door and shot the bolt, then headed for the living room. "Since all the lights were on, I thought maybe you'd like a little company." He went straight to the front windows and checked the latches, rattling them slightly to make sure that they were secure. Then he headed for the sun room to do the same for the patio doors.

"What are you doing?" asked Laura with some asperity.

"The counter terror lads call it securing the perimeter," he replied. Laura followed him, slightly bemused now, as he checked the kitchen window and made sure the back door was locked. "You have a basement?"

She showed him where the cellar stairs were. "Bulb's fused I'm afraid, haven't had a chance to replace it."

"That's all right." Robbie took out a small pocket torch and flicked it on then headed down to survey the darkness. When he returned, he didn't pause, but headed directly to the upper floor. "Are you coming?"

Laura hid a smile a followed him up.

Robbie went into the spare bedroom and opened the window. He leaned out and shined his torch down the side of the house before securing it closed. In the bathroom he remarked only, "Probably too narrow for an adult to get through, but we'll check it anyway."

Out in the hall again, he gestured to the final room. "Your bedroom?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded.

He went directly to her window without a glance at anything else and did the same as before, only taking a longer more careful look at the garden below. When he was satisfied, he shut the window firmly and said, "All secure."

He left the room and headed downstairs, pausing for a moment two steps down. Eyes nearly on a level, he looked at her seriously. "You can sleep now," he said gravely. "I'll be downstairs."

"Thanks anyway, Robbie, but really, I'm fine."

"Yes, you are." He smiled at her, warm as sunshine. "But _I'm_ a nervous wreck, so humor me, eh?"

Laura tried again to hide a smile and failed. "All right, if you insist."

"I do insist." His smile faded. "And Laura," he gestured to the phone in her hand. "Just call me next time, all right?" He turned and tromped down the stairs before she could reply.

When he had disappeared into the living room she whispered, "Thanks, Robbie."


	5. S5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, it's missing 'The Gift of Promise' — my mind went as blank as a paint chip. Maybe someday...)

Old Unhappy Far Off Things

Laura walked into the office that Robbie and James shared before leaving for dinner. James looked up from his paperwork. "You just missed him."

"I know." Laura perched on the corner of James' desk. "Fill me in. I want the after action report, as you chaps say. And not on the case, on Robbie," she said.

James raised an eyebrow, but carefully considered the question. "Better I think," he said, referring to Lewis' mood.

"You're sure?" asked Laura. "You're not just taking his word for it?"

"Observation." James paused to order his thoughts, "I think it's solving the attack on the girl, more than anything. He said that he felt that the case had been left unfinished." He sighed. "Maybe it's just a little bit more closure for the time in question."

"Ah," Laura considered. "What about his old friend the ex-cop?"

"Upset of course, as much about lying to him and the corruption I think, as her death." James said. "But she doesn't really tie into the other except peripherally."

"Good." Laura smiled. "I figure I owe him a good looking after."

"I doubt very much that he would agree with you," James said.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not consulting him on the matter, eh?"

James gave her a sudden mischievous smile. "Does this mean that you owe me one too since I did the heavy lifting this time?"

Laura grinned back. "Yes, you cheeky sod, I owe you one. The next pint is on me." She slipped down off the desk to go, but paused and put a hand on James' shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Well done, James," she said softly.

He smiled deprecatingly. "Good night, Doctor."

 

Wild Justice

Laura opened the patio doors and took a deep breath of fresh air, admiring the colors of the sunset. She leaned against the door frame and sipped her tea, and thought about Robbie. He had seemed outwardly calm about Lyn's news, but Laura could sense his underlying excitement. She smiled; it was so good to see Robbie happy, no one she knew deserved it more. The cloud he'd been under for so many years had seemed to lift a little of late and once or twice he'd smiled at her in a way that made her feel warm all over. She'd give anything to see his face the first time he saw his new grandchild. The thought brought an ache to her chest at the possibility of Robbie moving away from Oxford, but she pushed it away.

 

The Mind Has Mountains

Laura curled up in bed with a good book, happily turning pages before drifting off to sleep. She wasn't paying much attention to the book, she was thinking of Robbie. Once again he'd taken a step towards her, recognizing however briefly, that he had the opportunity for a second chance.

He'd pull away again as he always did in this delicately choreographed dance of theirs, but each time it was lesser distance and the return would come a little sooner. With a smile she put the book away and flicked the light off. How could she nudge him some more tomorrow?

 


	6. S6

The Soul of Genius

After watching Robbie enter Michelle Marber's house, James leaned his seat back and closed his eyes. He'd though Lewis was too easy on Michelle; he'd thought that he could handle her better with more distance. And as usual he'd thought wrong.

He didn't quite know how Robbie did it, telling bad news with kindness. The older man seemed to have an infinite store of caring in spite of a job that made so many officers callous. Instead of making him shy away from others' pain, suffering his own tremendous loss had seemed to give him an understanding and a connection to the people left behind in the wake of tragedy.

It was the secret reason why he'd determined to leave the force when Lewis did. He tried hard to be sympathetic, compassionate, but it was a hollow fiction without Lewis. Something about the man brought that out in him and he was afraid to find out if he could do it on his own.

 

Generation of Vipers

Robbie put his feet up on the coffee table and tipped his beer back with a sigh.

He'd had the best. That was definitely what was holding him back, not fear of taking a risk.

Right?

 

Fearful Symmetry

"Robbie is turning James into a quite decent detective," Jean commented.

Laura smiled. "Yes, he is."

"We've both known James longer than he has; what's his secret, you think?" Jean gave a half laugh. "I complain sometimes, but then I remember how rigid and formal James used to be, never thinking outside the box."

Laura considered. "Well, I think that Robbie understands people on an instinctive level, even if he can't or won't put it into words." She shrugged. "My impression of James was always that he was a perpetual outsider, never accepted by anyone."

"Mmm," Jean made a thoughtful, 'please do continue' noise.

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way," Laura said. "But considering where Robbie is from and his era, he's remarkably tolerant and nonjudgmental. I think he's probably the first person who's ever accepted James for who and what he is."

"And most people are intimidated by James' intelligence. Certainly his first DI was. In retrospect, putting them together was a mistake."

Laura chuckled. "Robbie isn't intimidated by much. He's got a lot of smarts himself, even if they aren't of the book learning variety. You should hear the way James teases him, he's like a little boy sometimes. Most men that much older would take offence, but Robbie just teases him right back."

Jean nodded. "Kind of like a father-figure."

"I don't think James would accept that." Laura shook her head. "No, I think Robbie's more like an older brother."

"Sometimes I get so annoyed at them, I want to split them up, but I don't think that it would be good for James."

"The benefit goes both ways, it would be just as bad for Robbie."

"Mmm," Jean nodded in agreement.

 

The Indelible Stain

Laura stepped out of the central police building still chuckling over Robbie's expression when she'd told him that Peterson wasn't her type, giving him a pointed smile that should have told him exactly who fit that description. He couldn't have been more nonplussed if she'd hit him over the head with a brick. "Hmm, not a bad idea, maybe I'll try that next time," she smiled to herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the object of her affections walk off down the street.

She was tempted to run and catch up with him but there was something in the set of his shoulders that made her reconsider. It had been her private mission for years to try and poke Robbie out of his depression and give him chances to talk his grief out. But now he was hunched as if to protect himself from a heavy blow and his armor would be firmly in place. She'd have to try to tease it out of him tomorrow.

 


	7. S7

Down Among the Fearful

James didn't bother with a glass, just drank directly from the bottle. He kept seeing Vicky die, kept hearing her plea to pray with him. Even a rationalist who claimed to not believe in heaven or a higher power crumbled with fear in the face of death. And he'd been frozen, unable to comfort her, trapped in his own crisis of faith, unsure of what he himself believed any more.

It seemed that all of them, Crane, Beatty and Vicky, were challenging faith not so much to explore the basis of reason, but to shore up their own belief systems. To believe in nothing was still to believe, after all. They weren't just arguing against faith, they were actively trying to destroy it. Theirs was a modern Inquisition… trying to force people to convert to their pretense of perfect rationality. As if anything human could be perfectly rational.

And what had Crane achieved? He'd become so "rational" that he'd lost all compassion. He'd demonstrated an utterly callous inhumanity when confronted with the murders of his colleagues. He was actually proud of destroying people's faith, blaming his victims for having shaky convictions in the first place. But in his heartless disregard for their mental state, he'd given them nothing to replace their faith, not caring what happened to his subjects once he'd destroyed it. People like Katherine Dutta, so very damaged and fragile to begin with, never stood a chance.

It repelled him all the more because he felt himself too used to death and blood and mangled bodies, too close to a similar inhumanity. It was part of why he depended so much on Robbie.

 

The Ramblin' Boy

After leaving the pub, they once again ended up along the river. "Dinner tonight, my place?" asked Laura. They'd had take-away at his last night, and spent half the night kissing on the couch before each heading to their own bed for a restless sleep. Tonight she wanted something more. "And Robbie…"

He turned and looked down with that warm smile he reserved just for her. "Hmm?"

"Stay the night?" The smile didn't waver, but he didn't reply for a long moment. "Unless that's moving too fast…" her voice tapered off as his smile widened.

"We've been dancing around one another for quite some years, yeah?" He paused again, eyes twinkling at her. "I think that's enough foreplay, even for an old plodder like me."

When she realized what he'd said she laughed out loud and leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder. She reveled in the strength of his arms that automatically went around her and held her firmly. Then the magic words were there, bubbling and sparkling on her tongue like champagne.

_I love you, Robbie._

She held them back. And even in the aftermath, when they were spent and panting for breath in each other's arms, she kept silent. Given how deeply he'd loved Val, she should have realized how passionate he could be, but he was unexpectedly playful, and his hands ( _why hadn't she noticed the promise implicit in those hands?_ ) were gentle and knowing as they explored her. Still though, she was afraid of pushing too hard, moving too fast and causing him to pull away from her again.

She nudged him over onto his back and straddled him, kissing him deeply and allowing her own hands to wander freely, making him gasp. If she couldn't tell him, then she was damn well going to show him.

 

Intelligent Design

James left immediately after his pint, saying he had things to do, so Robbie sat alone waiting for Laura to arrive. He kept hearing her say "…until I can retire too." Did she really mean for that long a commitment? She was what, twelve, thirteen years younger than he was. Of course he'd be happy with any amount of time she'd give him, but somewhere along the line he'd lost trust in the future.

He'd had plans for a lifetime with Val but they'd been cruelly dashed away, and now he'd spent so long living one day at a time that planning for the future wasn't something he did any more. It had started coming back into focus a little with the arrival of his grandson, but he was still leery of the long term. Maybe that's why he was having so much trouble deciding to retire.

He looked up to see Laura approaching in the distance and had to smile. The future, he suddenly realized, was beautiful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, suggestions, insults, or typos can be directed here: atomic.space.kitteh [at] gmail [dot] com
> 
> =^..^=


End file.
